


The Ring

by WanderingBandurria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Development, Character Study, Dark Magic, Getting Back Together, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, James Potter (mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27175312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingBandurria/pseuds/WanderingBandurria
Summary: Sirius is offered his family’s ring four times throughout his life.This is a brief recount of them, and how he came to accept it on that last one.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 20
Kudos: 68
Collections: Sirius Black Fest 2020





	The Ring

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt #:** 10 Sirius accepting/being given his Heir ring  
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.  
>  **Notes:** Thanks to the mod of this fest for putting this together! And thanks to my betas, LikeABellThroughTheNight & [the_secret_wordsmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_secret_wordsmith/pseuds/the_secret_wordsmith) for the help with the grammar, and to [aryastark_valarmorghulis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aryastark_valarmorghulis/pseuds/aryastark_valarmorghulis) for the help with the plot.

**I.**

His father sat down on his bed; his mother stood stiffly by the door. Sirius just looked at his hands, his lips tightly shut. The winter sunlight that filtered through the windows wasn’t enough to warm his fingers, nor enough to avoid the use of torches in the hallways.

“Sirius,” his father said, his deep voice more grave than usual. “From this day on, you are no longer a child - and you’ll have to start acting accordingly. You are part of a family with a great history and we need you to understand that. We need you to show that you value your heritage.”

Sirius didn’t quite agree with the _no longer being a child_ part, but he couldn’t say that aloud. He wasn’t completely sure what it meant to _not_ be a child either, but he understood well enough that a tantrum, claiming that he was still a kid, wouldn’t help him. 

He was only seven, and only the day before he had been six, and he had been allowed to play with toys and jump on beds, albeit only when nobody was looking. 

Just the day before he had been so excited about his birthday - he thought it would be like last year, with him getting gifts only for himself, that he could share with Regulus _only_ if he wanted - and that Kreacher would make his favourite meal and he’d be visited by his cousins and allowed to leave early to play alone in his room. 

No one had thought, apparently, that it was important to explain what his seventh birthday entitled - what it meant for him to be seven when he was the heir of the Black family. 

He had woken up with a smile on his face that had faded as soon as he had stood up to find all his toys gone. He had rushed out of his bedroom and protested to his mother as well as he could, given the fact he was _only_ seven. He had been sent back to his room without breakfast, locked in there alone the whole morning.

He had already cried out all his frustration and anger, so he just sat motionless on his bed, looking at a wall, ignoring his father as well as he could.

“You are my eldest son. You are the heir of the House of Black, and as such, you’ll have responsibilities. Your tutor will tell you more about them during the week, but in the meantime,” and Sirius was tempted to look at his father, given his sudden silence, but he kept stubbornly his eyes averted.

“Look at your father, child,” his mother’s voice made him jump in his place. He glanced at her, his brows furrowed. In normal circumstances, he would have stuck his tongue out at her, maybe raised his chin and said something she would hate like _n_ _o._ This time, though, Sirius didn’t feel like doing any of that. 

She didn’t seem scary. She seemed small and tired, and that alone took all the fight out of him. He felt like crying, but he clenched his jaw and fought the impulse.

He looked at his father, in the end, to avoid weeping. His father’s face didn’t betray any emotion, as usual. Sirius wasn’t scared of him, but he wasn’t sure he felt anything for him either. 

In his hand was a heavy-looking golden ring that drew his attention immediately. He recognized the family crest on it, and a chill went down his back. He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“This is the ring of the heir of the house of Black. It’s your right to have it on this day. It might not feel right at the beginning - it has powerful magic in it, and you’ll have to grow used to it. Nevertheless, it’s yours, and as you get older, you’ll find important uses for it. Extend your left hand, boy,” his father said. 

Without his control, his hand shot forward.

The ring felt wrong immediately. It itched and it was _so_ heavy, that his hand fell onto the bed covers as the golden hoop shrank to the size of his finger. 

“I don’t like it,” he said before he could stop the words. He looked up, afraid of the consequences of talking out of turn.

His father looked at him with steady eyes that seemed to hide something.

“You’ll get used to it. Just wear it for short periods at first,” and without further ado, his father stood up, casting shadows against the torches, and left the room without looking back once. 

His mother seemed to ponder for a second about going into the room, but after a long couple of seconds, she just closed her eyes, took a breath, and moved away, barely making a sound, not even when she closed the door.

As soon as he was back alone, Sirius tried to take the ring off. He pulled and pulled, but it remained on his finger - until with a final, great tug, he managed to free himself, leaving a red mark on his skin. It was like the ring clung to his flesh, and Sirius shuddered as he let it fall from his hand.

Carefully, he put it on his nightstand’s drawer, not wanting to look at it again. 

When he went down to dinner over the next few days, his father didn’t say anything about its absence on Sirius’ finger, but his mother frowned. Sirius did his best to ignore her hawk-like gaze, focusing instead on kicking Regulus’ feet under the table as quietly as he could, easily avoiding the sorry attempts of his brother to get him back.

Weeks passed by, and although his mother’s frown didn’t disappear, Sirius slowly forgot what it was about - she always had something to frown upon Sirius for, so it didn't really matter what was it about this time.

Three months later, when he opened the drawer of his nightstand looking for a quill and the ring was gone, he didn’t feel sorry at all. He breathed in, with relief, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

**II.**

The second time he was given the ring, it was without ceremony. His father stood tall by the fire as Sirius pulled his trunk into the kitchen. With only a gesture of his hand and a frown, his father made him stop. Sirius stuck out his hand stiffly, and the ring was set on his palm. An immediate shudder ran down his back at the contact with the cold metal.

“Don’t you think we forget treason,” his mother said, eying with disdain the gold and red scarf on his shoulders. “You have to prove now that you are a worthy heir.” 

His father didn’t say anything but his frown deepened. Sirius had heard him a couple of nights ago arguing with his mother - he had said that _some_ _youthful rebellion was to be expected,_ that this meant that _Sirius would develop his own strength to support the house of Black as it was his duty;_ that _a day would come when he would find value in the stability of the family, but that would only happen after he went out and sunk his feet in the world’s waters._

He said that he had _more value as an independent thinker, as a leader, than as a lamb, and that she didn’t understand what was needed, in reality, from their heir,_ so that she _should leave this business in his hands._

As he received the ring, he didn’t say anything, but he sniffed hard before putting the ring in the pocket of his shirt. He did so looking straight into his mother’s eyes, and her lips were tightly shut.

“And don’t you dare to shame us in front of your aunt and uncle,” she added all of a sudden when Sirius was already grabbing a pinch of the Floo powder and jumping hastily into the green flames, calling out the name of his cousins’ summerhouse.

He got the message. He was supposed to wear the ring in front of his aunt and uncle. 

A week into his holidays, he was already wearing the ring every day. He’d actually been waiting for this visit because Narcissa and Andy weren’t _that_ bad, and Bellatrix didn’t live with them anymore - she was on holiday with her husband. Regulus barely counted anymore, since he didn’t interact with Sirius, too scared that the _Gryffindor-ness_ was contagious. 

Before going, he thought everything would be alright because his aunt and uncle weren’t going to be there much. Before the ring, he had expected to run around the gardens, read and climb trees on his own - he would have three weeks of almost freedom, away from Grimmauld Place and the oppressive presence of his mother, and that had sounded like a dream.

Instead, he found himself feeling nauseated day after day, as he wore the ring every time there was a chance of him running into his family - he wore it at every meal, and every time he had to stay in the study room, or anywhere near the house, because just after receiving it, he had gotten very scared that one of his cousins, or his brother, would tell on him. He didn’t dare to leave it on his room, even though he acted with nonchalance about it, like the weight of the ring wasn't a big deal. 

He wasn’t sure what would happen if they wrote to his mother about him not wearing the relic.

The ring itched and strained his skin, and even without using it, its presence loomed in his mind, and his finger had started to feel cold with or without it. At night, he looked carefully at his hand, and sometimes he thought he could see some black vapours emanating from it. He wasn’t scared of that - he was just so, so tired. He only wanted to go back to Hogwarts so he could hide the cursed thing once again.

He passed his days as a ghost. He usually went for long strolls so he could take the ring off for a couple of hours. He walked by carefully built gardens and wild meadows. Sometimes he dared to go into one of the greenhouses, but only for a few minutes. He didn’t want to be tricked by one of the plants and have to ask for help. 

He wrote tons of letters to James, and one to Peter, and another to Remus, although he didn’t really know what to tell to the two of them - with James, instead, there were plans and adventures to daydream about, people to prank in the future, and a family that he also knew to despise. 

The days blurred in a grey fog, where the numb pain on his finger and his boredom was the only thing that was a constant.

A week into his holidays, he had no hope for the days to turn any better. He still had two weeks to survive, and he was trying his best to stay out of trouble - but then, he was sloppy enough to not check first before going into a greenhouse. He ran straight into Andy, freezing on the spot before muttering, “I’m sorry,” and turning away to leave, as inconspicuously as he could manage.

“Sirius,” Andy said, calm and composed as always. “Why don’t you stay and help me?” she asked, and he nodded and turned back, searching in his pocket for the ring, feeling a bitter taste of anticipation. Andy frowned. “You don’t have to wear it in front of me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

Sirius looked her in the eyes - those dark eyes, so full of determination as his were too. He took his hand out of his pocket slowly. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asked instead, trying to not show how relieved he felt. He allowed himself to look around the place. The plants were really beautiful - all shapes and colours, from dark green to purple and orange. Long leaves hung over his head, fluttering softly with nonexistent winds.

Inside of the greenhouse, the hot summer air was stuffy and almost unbearable, but he still felt more alive than he had in days. Andy looked at him and smiled cautiously.

“Well, since you are only a first year -” she started.

“I’m starting second year in fall,” he protested, pressing his lips together to avoid smiling. He remembered the nice words and smiles that Andy always gave him in Hogwarts, even when he was surrounded by his Gryffindor friends. He also remembered Andy hanging with some Hufflepuffs who weren’t purebloods - and that made the smile finally crack his face.

“Still, I can’t trust you with most of the plants. So why don’t you go and stir the dragon dung?” and Sirius groaned in protest, so she laughed softly. “After that, I can show you some of the interesting specimens we have here. Deal?”

Sirius shrugged.

“Deal.”

\---

Two days later, Narcissa approached him outside of his bedroom. She extended her graceful hand to him. 

When Sirius looked down, there was a golden chain in his palm. 

“It’s expected for men in the family to wear their rings on chains around their neck until they are of age and have proven to be powerful enough to handle the magic,” she said, looking down at him over her nose. “Frankly, I’m surprised that aunt and uncle didn’t consider the family’s customs. That was very _sloppy_ on their side,” Sirius opened his mouth, feeling himself pale, but Narcissa raised her hand. “Mom and dad _know_ about the actual uses of rings in the family, of course, and I told them about how inappropriate your way of carrying the heir’s ring was. They are expecting you to accept this chain as a token of their dedication to the family and for you to use it from now on,” and without another word, she turned around and left.

She walked away as silently as his own mother did.

Sirius stood there for a second, battling the tears that came at the idea of pulling the ring off his hand _permanently_ , but also at the surge of gratefulness he felt for Narcissa. She was wicked, he thought with a laugh - she made it sound like it was all for the family, all for their honour, like he had no option if he didn’t want to make his aunt and uncle mad. But Narcissa didn’t fool him. He had seen her frown while looking at his finger and then worriedly exchange whispers with Andromeda.

When Regulus appeared across the hall, Sirius pulled himself out of the shock. He rolled his eyes at his brother and ran downstairs to set the ring on the chain before going out to the greenhouses, where Andy was waiting for him.

\---

“Andy,” he spoke hushedly as they sat down on low stools and waited for the potion they were brewing to cool down. Andy looked at him, as she cleaned her hands with a cloth. “Um. Do you happen to know anything about the Heir ring - anything that you can tell me about? I… it makes me feel like crap,” he said, forcing a laugh out of his mouth, as he accepted the cloth and cleaned his own hands.

The ring on his neck almost vibrated, like it could feel that he was talking about it. It didn’t make him feel as bad as when he had to wear it on his finger, but it still brought him phantom pains and a feeling of desperation that he couldn’t explain.

Andy avoided looking at him as she set her hands on her knees.

“I’m not completely sure, but…” she paused, weighing her words, and Sirius inched forward on his stool. “The family history is not a pretty one. I’ve read some… worrying stories about the ring in our library, mostly legends about it and other jewellery of the family. To make an object as powerful as this one… You need things that most people wouldn’t even think about using. The brand of magic with which it was forged is… _ancient_ , and not very appreciated in most families…”

“Well yeah, of course I know it has dark magic,” Sirius said, shaking his head and pulling the chain from under his shirt to examine the ring. He felt upset at how indirect his cousin was - always talking in riddles, always avoiding the centre of the topic. _They all are avoiding things_ , _even Andy_ \- _even though she laughs with me and tells me secrets about her friends,_ he thought, bitterly. “But I’ve never felt _anything_ like this, Andy. It’s just…”

“Sirius,” she said firmly, finally looking at him, making him shut up immediately. She sat there, her column tall and regal like a statue. “All I can tell you is that the ring was forged in the middle ages, when the Black family magic wasn’t hidden. The family had a castle and controlled a lot of Muggles' lives, and they were feared. Rumours told that they shouldn’t be disturbed or upset, because they could make _entire towns disappear,_ ” she said, looking at him again. “So please, don’t ask me again. Don’t make me look at it either,” she pleaded, even though her eyes remained on his face, and Sirius immediately put the ring under his shirt. “Now, I think the potion is ready. Do you want to try it to see if we can make those ferns turn rainbow coloured?” she asked, forcing a smile on her face.

He huffed to dispel the tension, and then smiled excitedly, trying to put his doubts behind him.

“Yeah, let’s do that. Can’t wait to see it! maybe I’ll take some leaves to send to James,” and he stood up, inching towards the cauldron on the table.

  
  


\---

The night before leaving for Hogwarts for the start of his second year, Sirius finally gathered his courage, took the ring from the chain and slid it on his finger. Without a word, he crossed the empty halls, where the portraits whispered and mumbled until he was in his father’s study. 

He pulled the ring from his finger and left it on his desk. He raised his chin as Orion examined him. 

“You’ll regret it later,” his father said with his raspy voice, his words slightly slurred because of the whiskey. Sirius shook his head, stiffly. “You’ll have to get used to it sooner or later. Better if you try from now on,” he remarked, but Sirius just shook his head again, stubbornly. 

Orion sighed.

“I see. If you are certain, then. We’ll wait until you are older,” and with that, Sirius nodded, and left the room with his heart beating fast in his ears. He ran back to his room, rules of the house be damned.

**III.**

As soon as he was called into his father’s study, he knew things were going south. 

Still, he hadn’t expected the damn ring to be there, on the desk. He hadn’t expected to see it again until he was seventeen, _of age_ , as Narcissa had implied over four years ago. 

His mother stood by the side of the desk, tall and threatening; his father sat on his gigantic chair. 

“You’d been nothing but a disappointment,” she started, but his father raised a shaky hand, making her shut her mouth.

“Sirius,” he said, and Sirius just raised his chin. “I understand your need to defy the family's rules. I really do. I think it's… _healthy_ for you to use your youth to explore, to realise what’s important. But your mother and I,” he said, and Walburga stood taller, while his father sank in the chair, his blood-shot, glassy eyes fixed on Sirius. “Think this is enough now. You not only were sorted into the wrong house, but you have consorted with the wrong kind of people from your first day in school. You refuse to meet with the youth from families we think are important to keep good relations with. You refuse to learn and value the family history. So here we are, with the last chance for you,” And he pointed with his open palm to the ring on the desk.

“Oh, you mean it?” he said with irony. “So if I just refuse to use that abomination, you’ll let me go?” and even when he felt a knot of uncertainty in his stomach, he just stood there, as proud as he could manage.

“ _Abomination?_ Show some respect for your family’s traditions!” his mother shrieked, just before pressing her fists against her dress and smoothing it, to try to calm herself down. She always did that - she clenched her jaw and balled her fists before passing her palms over her dress. Maybe it was a way to try to remind herself of her position as a woman in the family. Sirius felt his teeth grinding together. How could she defend the family, given how she was treated - as an accessory, at best -, given how she saw their fortune depleted because of his father’s drunken decisions and long absences? 

He found himself once again hating everything about the Blacks.

“Yes, abomination! You know, James Potter is a pure-blood too, and in his family, they don’t have any relic that was built on the suffering and blood of Muggles. They don’t have a ring that ties you down to your family, making your will slowly disappear. They value their history without having it stomping over other people's skulls. The Potters are as much pure-blood as we are, and still, they don’t force their kid to preserve connections and marry only into other purebloods families, nor…” 

Her mother’s restrained voice as she began her reprimand made him stop in his tracks. At his own mention of marriage, his mind had gone off tracks, summoning the image of Remus - Remus, with his hands shaking as his fingers threaded in his hair, moaning from above Sirius as he asked him to keep going; Remus, as he laughed softly and looked at him from across the room with something that Sirius hadn’t been able to decipher thus far. He would never say anything about what they had started doing at the end of last year, but Remus had made the whole idea of consorting with a pureblood woman to have _Black babies_ sound even more ridiculous in his head. How could he want to leave _that -_ whatever it was - for this fucked up family? How could he want to be a part of this nest of snakes, full of wrong ideas, when he could spend his days running around the castle with James, and the nights sharing his bed with Remus? How could he dream of anything but having that for the rest of his life? 

“How dare you compare us with those blood traitors -” his mother said from between her gritted teeth, her eyes desperate and shining. Sirius couldn’t find it in his heart to feel sorry for her again.

“Woman,” Orion said, finally standing up, shaking and drunk, as usual. “Boy,” he said, looking him in the eyes, making him feel small for the first time in years. He took the ring from the table and extended his unsteady arm towards him. “You will be able to take that into consideration, to _change_ as much as you want of this family _when_ your time comes. When you are in charge of the decisions. When -” 

But Sirius had had enough, and for the first time in his life, he interrupted his father to laugh bitterly.

“I’ll be able to change things here? What are you talking about, father? Like that ring would ever allow me to,” he said with a derisive huff, _"That_ ring - you think I haven’t investigated it? You think I don’t know how, the moment you have the power to make decisions around here, it binds you to _keep_ _everything as it is?_ To _follow_ every rule written for centuries? Change things,” he laughed again. “No, there’ll be no changing in this house, except for the fact that I won’t be here anymore if your _threat_ is real. If you're really willing to let me go,” he added with desperation. 

His balled fists were so tight that he could feel his nails digging into his flesh. He kept his eyes trained on his father, barely noticing his mother shaking by his side.

His father raised his chin, and slowly put the ring down.

“So be it,” he said, simply. 

Sirius had always thought that he would be delighted if something like this ever happened. He had dreamt of this - although he had barely dared to hope for it. And still, somehow, with his father finally confirming that they were letting him go, that he was out of the family, his heart stopped and something bitter and horrible settled on the pit of his stomach. Time slowed down and his vision narrowed to the ring, _that damn ring_ , that was still on the desk.

His mother was the one that spoke next.

“You are no longer a part of this family. You are a disgrace and your name will be forgotten. Your life will be nothing but misery and pain, and a day will come when you’ll regret your idiotic, childish decision. Leave now, and don’t you dare step into this house ever again,” she said, and he could have sworn he heard a note of glee in her voice. 

Sirius' eyes moved from the ring to his father, who just sat down and turned in the chair to pour himself some more whiskey.

He only heard the small explosion and then felt the heat by the side of his face as his mother burnt the tapestry, but that was enough to make him react. Turning on his heels, he left the room and summoned his trunk, already packed in anticipation of what might happen. His heartbeats were fast and his mouth was dry, and fear settled in his chest because _what if they change their mind? What if they decide I know too much about the family? What if they think I'm too much of a risk?_

As he approached the front door, his eyes made contact with Regulus, who looked at him with a blank stare. A cruel smile grazed Sirius’ face.

“All yours,” he said with a sneer. “I’m sure mother is thrilled with what just happened. After all, a wet blanket like you is much more useful in this family. You’d barely have to deal with her, since you are going to do whatever she wants, like the coward you are,” he then pointedly ignored Regulus’ hurt expression as he took the trunk that approached him. Holding his breath, he opened the door and crossed the threshold, blinking surprised at the summer sun that made his eyes water.

He laughed bitterly, hollow, manically, happy - and stumbled out of the house to raise his wand in the middle of the street.

**IV.**

_Grimmauld place is yours if you want it_. _It is, if it’ll help us keep Harry safe; it is if I have any claim over it, which I doubt,_ his letter had said, underlined two times, even though Remus had looked disapprovingly at him.

He still hadn’t been ready for Dumbledore apparating into Remus’ cottage, just to put the _fucking_ ring on the table.

“As it is, we still need you to see if you can use it and control its magic,” Dumbledore had said, ignoring Sirius’ bitter questions about _how he got it, how Regulus lost it._ “We don’t have much time for you to figure it out though, I’m afraid. I’ll leave you to think about it tonight, but hopefully, you’d be able to give us an answer soon.” He paused then, and his eyes were so glassy, that Sirius felt his own darkening with anger at the attempts of intrusion into his mind. “If we do this, Sirius, you’ll need to stay at your family’s house for an undetermined amount of time. At least until we are sure we can clear your name,” and then he had thanked Remus for the tea and left the cottage.

Remus hadn’t said anything later, except a soft _good night, please have some rest_. They didn’t know how to talk to each other, except for jokes and jests, and some flirting from Sirius’ side that made Remus turn around and find an excuse to leave the room. They were awkward, sad, and carelessly gleeful, and Sirius couldn’t be happier, as it was, because it was _them_. He knew there were a lot of things to say to each other and deep wounds to heal, but they’ve been too caught up trying to survive for any of that to have meaning. Now, they could only be there for the other, and try to find equilibrium as life was.

Sirius didn’t go to sleep. He sat heavily on the floor, looking at the ring in the middle of Remus’ ratty coffee table. He kept the lights off as he gazed scornfully at the relic he never thought he would see again. As it was, being there in the shadows just seemed fitting. 

The ring still shone golden and ugly, even in the dark, even after not being used in over fourteen years.

He swallowed. The ring implied _going back_ to Grimmauld Place, and that sounded like a nightmare. Not such a horrible one as going back to Azkaban, but a nightmare nonetheless. 

He hadn’t thought about his family house until he heard about Harry’s almost-death at the tournament and Voldemort’s return. He hadn’t thought of his family until he thought of how many of them were Death Eaters, had been Death Eaters, and how he had nothing to offer the Order, if it ever came back into existence. He was a man in his thirties who hadn’t done anything but wandless magic for over a decade - and hell, even though he was brilliant at it, he hadn’t held a wand until he got to Remus’ place. 

He barely had anything to offer Harry.

Still, he knew there wasn’t much to decide. His heart hurt but he had put himself in this position the second he offered Grimmauld place. He’d have to put the ring on and hope for it to not eat his soul. He had thought it better to be done alone, in the middle of the night. He would cast his magic to try to stop the darkness from destroying what little was left of him, but just in case things went south, he wanted the protection of the darkness. Because after thirteen years, he still knew one thing: he didn’t want for Remus to see him getting consumed by his family. 

Nonetheless, his heart resisted the idea of putting the ring on. He hated it, as he hated a few things in his life - Voldemort and Bellatrix, for sure; Peter, maybe, in that twisting way that he was the person he hated the most, but also the boy that had been their friend, a boy he would have given his life for. 

Outside, frogs croaked. The spring breeze made the wood of the house howl, and Sirius wasn’t ready, not even twenty years later, to put the ring on. 

He knew he'd be ready before the morning came. He had no other option.

\---

Remus moved about his own house silently, like he had no right to be there, but Sirius could still _feel_ wherever he was. So even when he was being consumed by pain, fear and hate for the ring, he had felt Remus walking through the corridor. Their eyes met in the dark and Remus walked towards him and sat on the floor by his side.

When Remus’ fingers found his hand, Sirius’ heart beat faster, and the coldness that had settled over him with the ring seemed to disperse just a bit.

“It won’t make you one of them,” Remus said softly, his head falling back on the wall, tiredly. 

“I know,” he said hushedly. “It’s just… I can’t stop thinking of that Muggle myth - Prometheus. Do you remember it?” he asked, and Remus’ head turned to him. Sirius looked at him and he saw surprise and pride in Remus’ eyes.

“Yes, I do. I believe I told you about it. The titan who stole fire from the gods for humans, who was condemned to have his guts eaten every day at dusk until he was set free, thanks to the interjection of a younger god, with the condition he carried a piece of the stone he was chained to as a reminder that his sentence was for the rest of eternity and it wasn’t really over - is that the part of the story you were thinking of? Or were you thinking of the birth of Athena - or maybe about Pandora?” he said, softly, squeezing his fingers.

“No, I was thinking about the gut eating part, for sure,” he said, and he smiled at Remus this time. Remus smiled back, sadly.

“Maybe it can be a reminder of your own self, and how this was your choice, this time,” Remus said, but it sounded more like a question, and he worried his lip between his teeth. His eyes remained on Sirius, making him feel hot and _seen_.

“Or maybe it’ll be a reminder of all my mistakes, and how I was stupid enough to let the world consume me day after day. How I chose humanity - James, Lily, _you -_ and failed you all the same,” he said bitterly.

“You didn’t fail us. You came back. You have made sure to be there for Harry, you have supported him as nobody has done so before. You offered him a future,” he paused and Sirius waited, his thumb idly tracing figures in Remus’ hand. “You have _me_ wishing for a future. If anything, that ring should be a big _fuck you_ in the face of the Black family. A big _fuck you_ , _I’ll take your money and mansion and use it to sneak in half-bloods and muggle-borns and half breeds,_ ” Remus said smiling cheekily, squeezing his fingers.

Sirius laughed, his heart feeling a bit lighter.

“Fuck, you know I can’t resist sending them a big _fuck you,_ even in their afterlife. You know me too well, even after all these years,” he added softly. “Alright, we’ll make it about that then. A big _fuck you_ to the Blacks,” he said, and Remus just nodded and let his head fall on Sirius’ shoulder.

They sat there in silence for a while, the gold gleam of the ring seeming to pale at Remus’ presence. Remus started breathing more deeply.

“Hey, Moony?” Sirius said softly, fearing Remus had fallen asleep, but Remus hummed in response and pulled his head from Sirius’ shoulder. “You also make me want to have a future,” he said honestly, turning his face to look at him. “A real one, one for me. A future with you,” he dared to add. He loosened his grip on Remus’ hand, in case he wanted to pull away. 

Remus squeezed his fingers tightly.

“That’s good, then,” Remus answered softly, before moving the shaky fingers of his free hand to Sirius’ face. Sirius let his face fall against that hand, and kissed the roughened palm, his eyes firmly on Remus.

Remus surged forward like he was being pulled by a rope tied around his chest - he closed in inch by inch until they were kissing, desperately. Sirius didn’t feel it was like when they were teenagers and desperate to have two seconds alone. No, it was with the desperation of two men adrift finding a shore. 

Sirius had known this was coming, but he hadn’t been sure if he would allow himself to have it. But here he was, suddenly wanting to live so much, to get as much as he could out of this moment, that the pull of the past - the ring, the house, the family - and the pull of the future - Harry, _Remus, Remus -_ felt like nothing, like they dissolved into the sweetness of the present.

All he knew was that, at the verge of indetermination, it felt _right_ to have Remus lying on the wooden floors under his body. At the rise of a new war, of more death, having Remus panting, squirming under him was how it was meant to be. Having Remus whispering _off, off, off,_ as he pulled at his clothes, having Remus complain as Sirius pulled away from him, and having him laugh as they stumbled through the house kissing to get to Remus’ bed - to be on Remus’ bed for the first time in over thirteen years - was _exactly_ as things were meant to be for him.

He left Remus' bed hours later, leaving the man naked under the sheets and snoring softly. He only felt a pang of bitterness in his stomach as he took the ring in his hand. He barely shivered as he set it on his finger. 

It felt _right_ , and he laughed without realizing it. He hadn’t spent twelve years in Azkaban to be pulled down by the dark magic of a _toy_ made to bend his will. He hadn’t spent years resisting the Dementors to be defeated by his family’s memories.

_I’ll destroy it as soon as I can_ , he swore to himself, _I’ll make sure that nobody else has to use it. I’ll write a new history for this family, one where we don’t exist._

He felt the ring getting warmer, his own magic flowing freely on his skin, so he took a deep breath and called “ _Kreacher._ ” His voice was like thunder, as he stood tall and proud in the middle of the living room, naked and anew.


End file.
